To Be Rewritten
by shamaho
Summary: Monsieur Zidler, this ending will be rewritten. . ." Oh, it has been, Satine is not dying of consumption, rather suffering from a permanent, more uncommon at the time lung ailment. After her failed dinner with the Duke, Harold Zidler will attempt to get h
1. Default Chapter

_To Be Rewritten_

_by_

_Shamaho_

_Rating: PG-13- subject to change_

_Disclaimer- I do not own Moulin Rouge or any of it's characters, however, anyone or place not from the film does belong to me, and I will fight for them. All songs are from the film and belong to various peoples, unless there is an before the dialogue, which means they are my work and if you want to use them, ask me first!_

_Guidelines: Some swearing and sexuality, may become gruesome or a bit smutty, so if not the entire story, some chapters will be R._

_Summary: Half of the story rewritten, what if Satine were never dying in the first place? Of course, the ending will change after such a deletion._

_Told as if it were Christian's story, then fade into the movie, and back and forth in such a manner._

Note for this chapter: Asthma was first discovered in the fifteenth century and only recently have very effective treatments (inhalers) come about. Bronchial asthma, which affects the muscles, was being diagnosed as early as 1881.

* * *

Harold Zidler's brilliant lies had once again averted disaster. But he wasn't sure how brilliant of a lie, could save Satine. He'd met the doctor and Marie in Satine's quarter's that same night once the Duke had gone to rest. It would appear to be grim, the doctor was not smiling, and Satine was still blanketed in the cold of isolation, but upon Zidler's entrance . . . . 

"Monsieur Zidler," Monsieur le Doctor began slowly. "Mademoiselle Satine is, not quite as ill as you may have thought, it is not consumption, but a condition we've come to know as asthma." Zidler blinked, confused, and Marie made a grateful, yet unsure sign of the cross. "Instead of anything growing in her lungs, the tubes that lead to her lungs tighten every so often, it's to prevent allergens from getting into her lungs, but her tubes don't know when to open themselves." Zidler nodded. "What do we do?"

"Well for starters, don't lace her corsets quite as tightly, I know in this business that is important, but, it cuts off her air supply, and give her this, it seems to help, just have her inhale it twice a day, burn it to make smoke for her to inhale, not like a cigarette's smoke, but rather through her open mouth as it burns." He handed them some ground something or other. "It's the best we can do."

"Thank you, and, when will she be up?"

"As I told Mlle. Marie here, the morning, at the earliest."

"Yes, thank you, again."

The two watched the doctor leave, then looked at Satine, who stirred slightly in her sleep, Harold sighed. "Thank God, I don't know what would have happened if Satine were . . . you know, dying . . ."

"Lets not think about that. In the morning I'll give her her medication and be looser on her corset."

"Don't make her wear one tomorrow, there's no reason."

* * *

All night, the penniless sitar player had waited, and now, for the first time, he felt the cold stab of jealousy. 

Christian gazed up from the typewriter when Satine's soft, wheezing cough greeted him. He watched her a brief moment, the beauty of her long, wavy red hair and her sapphire blue eyes entranced him yet. He swallowed past a nervous lump and asked. "Where were you last night?"

She glanced up at him, surprised by the suddenness of the question. Her head fell again briefly as she answered. "I told you," she gazed up at him with a false smile. "I was sick."

He was disappointed in her, that she still would not be able to tell the truth, meet his eyes and tell him the full truth. He moved to the bed quietly, sat next to her and touched her hand. "You don't have to lie to me." He promised, examining her as she sat in her own world.

She shook her head, closing her eyes. "We have to end it," she tearfully gazed at him. "Everyone knows. Harold knows." To her, as he could tell, Harold Zidler was an almighty god whom could tell her how to live. To Christian, he had done it for too long. "Sooner or later the Duke will find out too." She added finally. She saw the sad, set features that covered his face and she frowned, her voice broke as she said. "On opening night I have to sleep with the Duke." Her voice softened greatly, she stood and added. "And the jealousy will drive you mad."

Angered by this accusation and by the fact that she did have to sleep with the Duke, it was her promise in the Elephant, he slammed down his pad and stormed outside to the faux balcony, made his way around through the other side as he thought, heard her whisper. "Christian . . ."

He came up behind her. "Then I'll write a song." He exclaimed, disappointed to see her turn away. "A-and we'll put it in the show," she tried to convince him otherwise but he continued as he held and kissed her. "And no matter how bad things get or whatever happens. When you hear it," a kiss, "or whistle it or hum it," to more kisses," Mm, you'll know what it means, it'll mean we love each other." He said, burying his face in her neck. "I won't get jealous."

"Things don't work that way, Christian." She warned him lightly, turning to look outside. "We have to end it."

Desperately searching for something in his soul, he watched her in the early sunlight. "If . . . if that's how you feel why don't you leave me then? If you don't love me why don't you leave?"

"I never said I wanted to, I never said I didn't love you."

"Then it's all going to be all right. As long as we have each other."

She still stared at the sun, and so he found some words to start himself off.

"Never knew I could feel like this  
Like I've never seen the sky before  
I want to vanish inside your kiss  
Seasons may change, winter to spring  
But I Love You, until the end of time

Come what may  
Come what may  
I will Love You  
Until my dying day."

As if the music had sunk into her heart, and the words were telepathic, Satine began to sing along, and they would sing this song all over, on excursions with the Duke, at rehwarsal, and here, in the place he had learnt to call home.

"Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place  
Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace  
Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste  
It all revolves around you

And there's no mountain too high  
No river too wide  
Sing out this song,  
I'll be there by your side

Storm clouds may gather  
And stars may collide  
But I Love You, I Love You,  
Until the end of time

Come what may, come what may, I will Love You  
The greastest thing you'll ever learn...  
I will Love You, Come what may, Yes, I will Love You  
Come what may, I will Love You, Til my dying day."

Once, for the first time of many, the song had ceased, she turned, tears running down her face. "Oh, Christian."

"Satine." He murmured as she hurried into his arms, he soothed her, caressed her lovingly as she cried against him.

"I don't know what to do, I never know what to do anymore, not since I, not since I loved you."

He grinned, kissed the nape of her neck and gripped her shoulders to look at her as he brought her away. "We'll get through this together, as long as we hasve each other, Satine."

She smiled, wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. "As long as we . . . as long as we have each other." She agreed. "Come what may."

* * *

First Moulin Rouge fic, how's it going? Please review! 


	2. Chapter Two

_To Be Rewritten_

_Chapter Two_

_Cry, you're happy and scared._

_Extra long for extra nice reviewers. Satine/Christian fluff and of course stuff not from the movie or else I couldn't write this._

* * *

Two weeks later we found ourselves a day to the premiere, it was rehearsals, not quite dress, only partially, and Satine and the Narcoleptic Argentinean (whom I learned was named Antonio) were singing our song, Come What May, I failed to notice, while watching in glee, that Nini was telling the Duke what she thought of our hard earned ending . . .

"This ending's silly." Nini said with an eyeroll, bending to lean near the Duke. "Why would the Courtesan go for the penniless writer? Whoops," she covered her mouth and faked wide eyes before returning to her usual smug expression. "I mean Sitar Player!"

The Duke watched her move away, eyed Christian, then Satine as the song ended. The moment the music ceased, he calmly informed them. "I don't like this ending."

Zidler thought he would choke on his own lungs, everyone faltered and lost their poses, angrily muttering to themselves. "Don't . . . like the ending? My dear Duke?"

"Why would the courtesan choose the penniless Sitar Player over the maharajah?" He demonstrated the difference with his hand. "Who is offering her a lifetime of security? That's real love."

I felt like standing up and shredding him to pieces as I saw Satine fight back her own disgust to the idea, but had to be strong for her, the show must go on.

"Once the Sitar Player has satisfied his lust he will leave the Courtesan with nothing. I suggest that in the end she choose the maharajah instead."

"But, but sowwy!" Toulouse made his way down the stairs from the doorway, cane in hand. "Sowwy, but that ending does not meet the bohemianideaws of fweedom, beauty, twuth and wuv!"

"I don't care about your ridiculous dogma!" The Duke's curtness made Toulouse's smile fade, and his bodyrecoil. "Why shouldn't the courtesan choose the maharajah!"

If only I'd kept my big mouth shut, everything would have turned out fine. . . .

"Because she doesn't love you!" Instantly, Christian realized his mistake, and he could tell that everyone else in the room realized it too, especially the Duke. "H-him." He stuttered, looking from his beloved to the flaming Duke. "She- she doesn't love him."

"I see," the Duke regained his composure from the shock of the boy's outburst, he turned to Zidler. "Monsieur Zidler, this ending will be rewritten with the courtesan choosing the maharajah, and without the lover's secret song. It will be rehearsed in the morning ready for the opening tomorrow night."

Zidler looked like a ghost, ready to pass out, and he knew the blow would be devastating not only to the Bohemians, but Christian was losing his ending. "But- but my dear Duke, that will be quite impossible!"

Leave it to my Satine to save the day. Oh, how she tried to save us all with her talent, but it was the one time out of any, I would have preferred her not too. As upset as I was, I could have lived without that ending.

"Harold! Oh!The poor Duke is being treated appallingly!" She eased down the stairs with a sexy grace that made the Duke calm down instantly. She faked a smile. "These silly writers, they let their imaginations go away with them." She descended the last flight. "Now why don't you and I," she began, her stone in a pool of slow flowing water blue eyes fixated on him, making him ache all the more for her. "Have a little supper, and then afterwards we can let Monsieur Zidler know how we prefer the story to end, hmm?"

The Duke nodded, drinking her in for the last appreciative time.

* * *

I waited a few minutes for Satine to leave the rehearsal hall, I had to confront her.

She eased from the room with a thank you to someone, then slowly went into the hall, where he stopped her, the most pitiful sight she had seen. "I don't want you to sleep with him." He begged, eyes imploring and hands loving, she found it hard to say no to him. She gasped for breath and returned. "He could destroy everything." They waited for a laughing couple of dancers that were passing to do so, then she looked at him. "It's for us." He shook his head, on the verge of tears, all the time seeing that damned Duke's hands all over her body, where only he should be able to caress her. "Yes." She assured.

"No." he shook his head.

She sighed and slid her smooth, flawless cheek against his so her lips were by his ear, he shivered, his love for her merciless against the pain. "Come, what, may." She whispered, her voice breaking.

He looked into her eyes when she pulled away and murmured. "Come what may."

She nodded. "Christian I won't have him take away your ending, our ending, your writing is your soul, acting and singing is mine, and our hearts," she kissed his jaw and nipped his lip affectionately. "Our hearts are each other, I am yours and you are mine, oh, Christian," her voice went low and she whispered in his ear again. "Don't you ever doubt my love for you, not after what you've done to help me fly."

"Oh, Satine, I love you so much . . ." he burst into sobs and so she looked around, pushed him into a nearby janitorial closet and closed the door behind them. "Oh my poor Christian," she kissed his quivering lips and swallowed one of his wracking sobs. "I love you just as much and then some, you've done so much for me, I'm getting our ending for you." She moved away slightly when he'd calmed. "He's waiting for me . . ."

"No!" Christian was quick to bring her into his arms again. "No!" He begged, sobbing more, and even harder. "Satine, I love you, and I don't love you for your body or your charm, I love you for your spirit and your heart, I love you so and he doesn't, I know, Satine, he doesn't . . ." He gasped and she shook her head gently.

"Darling, I know. Yes, I know Christian, oh, my love don't cry, it's going to be all right. _We_ are going to be all right. I love you, I really do and I have to do this for us."

Too pained to stop her he hurried from the closet, made to go home and then he decided to join the others, wiping away the signs of his fallen tears. She slowly slid from the closet with a heavy heart. "I love you, Christian." She murmured one last time, and went to change.

* * *

She'd gone to the tower to save us all, and for our part, all we could do was wait. . .

Christian had downed shots of several drinks, including an offered glass of Absinthe from Toulouse, and now the stars were spinning, he was in a true drunken rage and was not about to play nicely. It was at that moment that Nini decided to plop onto his lap and tease him.

"Awww, don't worry Shakespeare! You'll get your ending! Once the Duke get's his . . . end . . . in . . ."

She never would have anticipated that he would shove her away and go after her. She stumbled away and backed off as he stepped after her, screaming incoherent things at him.

"Nini, no, Nini, Nini . . ." Antonio did his best to calm her. "You keep you 'ands off me!" He whispered things Christian could not hear as Christian began walking in the opposite direction, but he stopped and looked to Antonio who came over to him.

"_Never_ fall in love with a woman that sells herself, it always ends **BAD**!"

Christian jumped at the final shouted word and watched as Antonio descended the stairs.

"We have a dance, in the brothels of Buenos Aires. Tells the story, or a prostitue," he gestured to Nini, and the spotlight went onto her. "And a man, who falls in love with her."

Nini came down the stairs laughing and met up with Antonio, the orchestra began to play a Tango and Christian watched as the two melted sensually into the music. "First, there is desire," a few moves, then a violent colliding of hands. "Then, passion." Some more dancing. "Then suspicion! Jealousy, anger betrayel! When love is for the highest bidder there can be no trust. Without trust, there is no love! Jealousy, yes jealousy! Will drive you . . . . _**MAD** (Mad, mad, mad)._"

Christian watched as Nini and Antonio parted, and she went to dance with all the other dancers.

"Roxanne

You don't have to put on that red light.

Walk the streets for money

You don't care if it's wrong or if it is right

Roxanne

You don't have to wear that dress tonight

Roxanne

You don't have to seel your body to the night!"

A song of Christian's own came to mind, and so thinking of Satine in the tower with the Duke, he began to sing.

"His eyes, upon your face.

His hand, upon your hand

His lips caress your skin

It's _**more**_ than I can stand."

His and Antonio's songs blended into one heartfelt message of pain.

"Roxanne

(Why does my heart cry?)

You don't have to put on that red light

(Feelings I can't fight)

Roxanne

You don't have to wear that dress tonight

(You're free to leave me but just don't deceive me and please)

Roxanne!

(Believe me when I say I love you!"

Christian was stunned to find himself in the Moulin Rouge garden, and he glanced at the balcony on the gothic tower, and could just barely make out Satine watching him, the Duke behind her, kissing her newly garnished throat. Her song, however, came to him clearly.

_"Come what may. I will love you, 'til my dying day."_

* * *

On that balcony, things would go horribly wrong, for everyone.

"No," Satine gasped, feeling the Duke stiffen.

"No?" He gazed down and saw the drunken writer in the garden, watching in anger. "Oh I see. It's our very own Sitar Player." She gasped and hurried inside, stiffly, he followed.

"My dear Duke,"

"_**SILENCE**_!" He tossed her down and ignored her cry of alarm. "You . . . made me believe . . . that you _loved_ me?!"

"No." She assured, shaking her head, tears of fear and hate forming in her sapphire eyes . . . He slid a hand under the jeweled neck-piece and thought about what eh was doing, then, with the last of the anger on the surface he ripped it from her, and the anger from within bubbled up. He chased her around, slowly removing her clothing until he got hold of her, undid the ties at the back of her bodice and ripped the beautiful blue dress from her body, revealing the tight corset and her stockings and garter belt. He tossed her bare form to the bed and was about to follow when stars exploded before him and he went out cold.

Satine opened her eyes to find Chocolat, staring at the unconscious Duke in shock, blood dripped from the Duke's mouth and Chocolat's hand was still tight in a fist.

"Oh, Chocolat!" She stood from the bed and hugged him. "Thank you. Thank you so much . . ."

"Shh, now, Mlle Satine, here, put my coat around you, I'm taking you ro Monsieur Christian."

"Yes, yes thank you, to Christian, oh thank you. Is . . . Is he all right?"

"He hurts badly for you, Mlle. But I am sure he will be fine when he sees you were not harmed."

* * *

I waited in my cold, dark garret, watched that tower, my heart convulsing in my chest, threatening to explode with my jealousy and hate, and my love for that woman, who would stop at nothing to save my ending. I felt that it was somehow my fault, and through my guilt I found that I hated myself immensely for making her feel so obligated, and then my door opened . . .

"I couldn't!" Christian took her close, suprised indeed by her presence. He didn't notice she was half naked, nor that Chocolat's coat had fallen off when she entered. The large man grabbed it from the floor and waited patiently in the doorway, Christian was too busy listening to her tale. "I saw you standing there and I felt differently and I couldn't pretend and I didn't want to lie. And the Duke he saw . . . He saw and he . . ." She sobbed and wrapped her arms around him. "Christian, I love you. I didn't want to pretend anymore, I don't want to lie . . ."

"Oh, it's all right, it's ok you don't have to pretend anymore, we'll leave. We'll leave tonight." He stroked her shoulders as she pulled back to gaze at him.

"Leave?" she considered the idea to herself. "But . . . the show . . .wha . .."

"Oh, I don't care, I don't care about the show. Don't you remember Satine? What we said?"

She smiled and nodded. "As long as we have each other." She wiped her tears away and kissed him. "Oh, yes and we do! We do have each other, Christian, I'm only yours ever forever. We'll leave, yes I'll leave with you!"

"Oh, good. We'll go to London, we can stay with my family until we find somewhere and I'll tell them you're a great actress that need's a job, my brother, Charles, he owns a theater there and I'll write the shows and you will be the star! And Satine, Satine," he kissed her hands and fell to his knees, still holding the cold, pale parts of her. "Before we make our careers will you marry me there?"

Tears slipped from her eyes again and she looked questioningly to Chocolat, he was smiling, and nodded eagerly for her to say yes. She smiled, gasped and looked at him. "Yes! Yes, Christian, of course!"

He frowned slightly. "I- I'm sorry I don't have a ring for you, but . . ."

"Oh! I don't care about that!" She brought him up to kiss him. "I don't need a ring, I love you, Christian! That's all that matters."

He smiled and looked to Chocolat. "Chocolat, take miss Satine to her dressing room to get the things she needs, no one must see you, do you understand?"

He nodded. "I understand."

"Good," Christian kissed his fiancée once again. "Darling, you go and pack. I'll be here waiting."

* * *

Regardless of our plans, Satine and I would not leave that night. Harold Zidler had just spoken with the Duke. . .

Satine hurriedly packed away all of her precious jewelry and left all of the fake, she had already gotten some clothes together, and jumped when she noticed Harold through the mirror, watching her.

"Forgive the intrusion, cherub."

She rolled her eyes and went to fetch her robe to cover herself. "You're wasting your time, Harold."

"Stop it, you don't understand. The Duke is going to kill Christian. Unless you do his ending and sleep with him tomorrow night the Duke is going to have Christian killed."

Tears had begun to flow from her eyes and so she looked up at the chubby entrepreneur. "He can't scare us."

Harold frowned. "He's a powerful man, you know he can do it."

Angered and keeping Christian's words close to her heart, she tossed the robe away and grabbed her coat.

"What are you doing!?" Harold sneered.

"I don't need you anymore!" She shouted, tearfully pulling the coat over herself. "All my life you've made me believe I was only worth what someone would pay for me! But Christian loves me! He loves me Harold! _He _**loves** _me_! And that is worth _everything_!We're going away from you, away from the Duke, away from the Moulin Rouge, and do you know what else, Harold? Christian asked me to marry him and I agreed! Because I love him too! Goodbye Harold." She made to leave.

"We need you, Satine." She froze and he continued. "Just for tomorrow night, one night of glory is all I ask. I know you and Christian love each other and I'm happy for you, I want you two to get married. I know I told you to stay away but only for the sake of the show. If you do the show tomorrow I will help you and Christian get off to wherever you want to go before the Duke can get to you, I swear, Satine. I'll hide Christian so he can watch the show and the Duke and his oompa-loompa won't notice him and kill him, I lie, it's true but dearest Satine, have I ever lied to you?"

Tears fell down her cheeks, she turned and gazed at him, her voice tightened as she whispered. "No."

"Have Christian get his things and come stay with you in the Elephant, I'll have someone like Chocolat stand gaurd so the Duke cannot get in at all tomorrow, Christian will stay there and after the show, you two will go and hopefully, I will be invited to walk you down the aisle myself."

"Oh, Harold!" She dropped her things and hugged him. "Of course, thank you."

* * *

It was a brilliant plan on Harold's part, and I was eager to help in it. eager to do something so tricky under the Duke's very nose, eager tobe able to wisk my bride to be away under such circumstances.

"Is it, all right with you?" Satine's red from crying eyes seemed worried, but Christian's first instinct got the best of him, and he went to hug Harold, who was stiff at first, then patted his shoulder gently. "There, there, it was no trouble for me, you make my little Sparrow happy."

"Yes, but you're the kindest person I've ver known and . . ." he parted from him. "I want you all to come and work for my brother's theater, you can manage it and star and the girls all can and the Bohemians, it's no trouble at all he's been looking for a talented cast! Oh, please say you will, not tomorrow of course but in a week or so, I'll pay your fair!"

Harold betrayed his shock, and delight, his eyes were wide and mouth half open. "I . . . Would be delighted to."

Satine and Christian wooted in triumph, now, all they had to do, was wait.

* * *

Thank you for the reviews! I hope I did as well with this chapter, keep those words of happiness or dismay coming! 

Shamaho


	3. Chapter 3

_To Be Rewritten_

_Chapter Three_

_La Premiere_

* * *

A/N: Thanks for the wicked awesome reviews! Special thanks to The 8th Beatle for being so enthusiastic about the story and keeping me on my feet. Please forgive the long delay. Kind Regards

Sharon Mahoney

* * *

"Andre," Christian wasn't necessarily eavesdropping, but he was standing there doing nothing that made noise, so the two Parisian's conversation was impossible not to hear. "Que'est-ce qo'un fait ce soir?" _Andre, what are you doing tonight?_

"Ah, ce soir, je vais aller a La Moulin Rouge." Andre replied. "Et toi, Sebastien?" _Ah, tonight I'm going to go to The Moulin Rouge. And you, Sebastien?_

"Je ne sais pas. Pourqoui vous etes aller a La Moulin Rouge?" _I don't know. Why are you going to The Moulin Rouge?_

"Ce soir est la premiere de Spectacular, Spectacular, mon ami." _Tonight's the premiere of Spectacular, Spectacular, my friend._

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" _What's that?_

"Un show de magnifiquance!" _A show of magnificence. _

Christian smiled softly, yes, it would be a magnificent show, the machinery had been finished and the electricity worked, not to mention Satine, and the other performers were in good voice. With the combined talent of his writing and the cast's skill, the show was to be a surefire hit. Zidler, after peeking around, led him to an empty area of machinery, where he could see and hear ok, but it was better than being dead.

"Remember, no matter what happens, do not move from this spot!"

* * *

Everything passed magnificently. Satine was wonderful, as he very well could expect, considering that the past week or so she'd had the stomach flu, at the very end, the curtain came down, Satine took a breath and fell into a dead faint. Zidler and the others rushed over, and Christian wasn't far behind, but the moment he was spotted by the still costumed entrepreneur, he was shunned away. "Are you mad? The Duke will be back this way, hurry, hide!" He turned to Nini. "Fetch the doctor!"

Toulouse pulled Christian behind a drape concealing some janitors quarters, and they watched the doctor hurry over to the fallen star and begin speaking with Zidler, at this distance, though, the conversation was inaudible. Christian stood helplessly with his good friend, waiting for some sign that she was all right.

Back over by the curtain, the Doctor looked up at Zidler with concern. "Ill, you say?"

"Yes."

"Beg pardon? How do you mean, 'ill'?"

"Well, sick, she's gotten sick, vomited a couple of times this week."

"Mmhmm, and this illness, no sign last week that she would be ill? Chills, nausea, anything of that sort?"

"No sir."

"How tight's her corset today?"

"She's not wearing one at all, we figured the dress would kill her if we made her wear a corset, it's quite tight, you see." Marie interjected from her place near the backstage stairwell. The doctor frowned more and pressed his hands over Satine's diaphragm, felt her breathing beneath him, moved his hands down just a bit, his furrowed. "Huh, strange."

"What? What's was that?"

"I said 'strange'."

"Well I know what you said, I meant to ask why!"

"Well her abdominal wall, it's unusually . . . Stiff."

"Stiff?"

"Hardened." Still not quite the right word, he frowned more. "Uh, blast it, I can't describe, it's just the way her abdomen is, it's usually softer, especially on a woman but her's is . . . Harder."

"Well, what does that mean?"

"Well it could mean one of two things, she's had some extra strain placed upon it regularly, causing strengthened hardened muscle, which I doubt, or, the reason I think is most likely, Mlle. Satine is with child."

Just as Nini came with smelling salts from the doctors bag, Zidler fell over in a dead faint, and the Duke marched up to them with Warner.

"Zidler where is . . ." He looked at the two unconscious people. "Foul play?"

* * *

_With child, with child, with child, with child, with child._

The words played through Christian's head as he sat by the window of the train headed for Normandy, where they would catch a boat to Liverpool. If what the doctor had said back in MonteMarte was true, he was in deep trouble with his family. He looked to Satine, who was sleeping coyly, curled close to him, latched to his arm like he were a ragdoll and she a small girl. She made him so happy, he didn't want anything bad to happen to her.

. . . He decided it would be best to marry her before they arrived in London. . . .

She stirred and looked to him, smiled. "Why are you gazing at me so?"

He grinned sheepishly. "You're the most beautiful woman in the world."

She frowned, knew the look all too well. "Christian . . ."

"Argh, I'm just so worried." He moaned, looked back to the window. "If they know about your . . . condition and that we aren't married they'll tear you to shreds and I don't want you to be hurt, Satine."

She kissed his cheek, made him look at her. "Then what do you suggest, my love?"

"Well," he shrunk in his seat a bit. "We should get married, before we catch the boat, on the boat even. I want to protect you, Satine." He slowly, almost shyly rested a hand on her flat abdomen. "Both of you."

"If it's for the best you know I will, Christian."

He nuzzled her nose with his, kissed her gently and held her close. "Yes, I know."

"Rest, we've a long journey ahead of us."

Long indeed.


End file.
